Big Brothers Need Hugs Too
by Super Vanilla Bear
Summary: Dean is sick. Sam helps. Sick!Dean fics (with a few limp-dean stories along the way). Occasional appearances from Cas and Bobby.
1. Big Brother Battles a Cold

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show_ Supernatural _or any of its characters. All of that belongs to Eric Kripke.

This is just a little idea I had while driving home from work tonight. I did this with another series I wrote for a different fandom. This will be a series of one-shots in which Dean is sick or injured or just upset (but mostly sick), and Sam takes care of him. I feel like the writers focus a bit too much on the drama and intensity of their relationship and sometimes forget that they are brothers. Plus, I'm a Dean girl, and I absolutely love wump and fluffiness between the Winchester boys.

I will try to always start this out by saying what season it is from. Their dynamics change every season, and I will try to keep general plot for that time in mind without spoiling later parts of the series. There will be a few appearances from Cas and Bobby, but this story is mostly about Sam getting to take care of Dean.

This selection is set in early season two.

* * *

_Big Brother Battles a Cold_

* * *

Sam can think of a thousand times that Dean has helped him in his life. From walking him back and forth to school everyday to packing his lunch to drawing up his baths at night, Dean has always been the one constant thing Sam can count on. Dad told him once, a few years before he passed, that a five-year-old Dean crawled into the crib with a not yet one-year-old Sam because his baby brother was screaming his head off. Then, there was the time when Sam broke his arm, and Dean carried him to the hospital while Dad was on a hunt. Dad says Dean never hesitated when it came to taking care of him. Never.

He wants to be the figure in Dean's life that he knows he can always depend on. Their relationship has previously been described as "sickeningly co-dependent," but, nine out of ten times, it is Dean who ends up comforting him instead of the other way around. Take last night for example. The now twenty-three year old version of Sam Winchester had a nightmare about Jess and woke up with tears streaming down his cheeks. Dean did what any other big brother on the planet would do and held him and whispered sweet nothings and made false promises until his baby brother fell back asleep in his arms.

See, that's what Sam wants to be.

And, today, he figures he'll get his chance to prove that he is a good brother to Dean.

This morning, Dean woke up with a nasty cough and a nose that decided it would be humorous to transition between stuffed up and runny every two minutes. He was running a slight fever that was just enough to make him uncomfortable and miserable, but not enough to knock him flat on his ass. So, being the trooper he is, he went on with his day like normal. Until he nearly ran his baby into a tree, that is.

Sam took over driving about an hour ago, which Dean didn't like one bit. Complained that Sam was just being a pain in the ass little brother and said he was fine. Typical Dean. Now, Dean is asleep in the passenger seat, curled up underneath the blanket they keep in the trunk, snot bubbles popping every few seconds through congested snores. There's a deep hue of red spreading across his cheeks, and purple smudges accent exhaustion underneath his eyes. Sam smiles, even though he does feel bad for his brother, but he knows it's his one chance to take care of Dean.

He pulls into the nearest hotel, which happens to, thankfully, be a nicer one than they are used to. Quickly, he checks them in before carrying their bags in. Next event is to wake up his probably insanely cranky brother. He carefully opens the door, and that shakes Dean awake. He gazes up at Sam and scowls, rubbing his hand underneath his nose, but he doesn't say anything. Yet.

"C'mon, bro." Sam grabs his elbow and keeps his hold, even though Dean huffs and tries to push him away.

"Time's it?" His voice is wrecked and barely audible, not to mention rattled with congestion.

"Almost two," he informs as he ushers Dean inside. He's shivering like crazy in the late April sun, which lets Sam know that his brother's fever has just risen. Not wanting to bother with showers, especially since he and Dean both took one this morning, he lets Dean sit down on the bed furthest from the door. Sam pulls out his brother's comfiest sweatpants and his own hoodie before handing them to Dean, who just strips in the middle of the room before collapsing on top of the covers, trying his hardest to stifle his coughs and sniffles.

Sam's next task is to get some medicine in his reluctant brother. Dean Winchester doesn't enjoy showing weakness, so getting him to swallow Nyquil is next to impossible. He tries to be methodical in his approaches to taking care of him, especially since Dean rarely gets sick. When he does, it has a habit of spinning out of control fast, so Sam is glad they caught it early. Better late than never.

"Dean," he says quietly. "You gotta take some medicine."

"Hrmph…" is the only response he receives. Dean has his face buried into the pillow, his arms bundled beneath it. His left foot twitches, and his breathing is deep. He must have already been nearly asleep, Sam decides. He rolls Dean on to his back and has him sit up to get the meds down the hatch. Sam also doesn't harass him about getting under the comforter because he knows it will just make Dean angry. His brother needs sleep, and that would be in the way of what he wants. Instead, he brings in the cover he was using earlier from the Impala and drapes it over the shorter Winchester's dozing form.

The younger Winchester grins. Well, he did it, even though he's sure Dean will pitch a fit whenever he's feeling up to it. He has no idea how his brother can breathe through a stuffy nose while he's laying on his stomach, and the redness of his face is really bothering him. Sam tiptoes on to the other side of the mattress before letting himself sink in next to his big brother as carefully as he can. This time, he rolls Dean on to his side to where he's facing away from Sam. He can already hear the congestion subsiding a bit.

Sam can think of a thousand times Dean has helped him in his life. From tying his shoes to making him dinner to cuddling him when he's sick, Dean has always been there. As Sam wraps his arms around Dean's waist and tries to hide his bright grin as his big brother snuggles his back into his chest, he knows he wants to always be there for him, too. That's what being brothers is all about.

Because big brothers need hugs too.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, some of them will be sappy! I can't help it! I suffer from the feels on a regular basis, and sometimes it's just nice to see them truly caring about each other. Believe me, there will be angst and drama and humor along the way. Anyway, I hope you guys like this idea, and I will try to update as soon as possible. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you stay tuned for the next fic! Please remember that reviews are love and mean the world to me!


	2. Big Brother Battles Strep Throat

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Supernatural _or any of its characters.

Thank you all for the positive feedback on the first chapter of this story! As I annotated yesterday, none of these stories are related to one another. They are all separate one-shots. Hopefully, that makes sense. =) Anyway, I just wanted to say that I appreciate all of the reviews, follows, and favorites this has received thus far. Hopefully, they will keep coming! Thank you again!

This selection is set in mid season one.

* * *

_Big Brother Battles Strep Throat_

* * *

It starts out simple enough. A barely noticeable scratchy, sore throat that only hurts a bit when he swallows. Sam gives him a funny look when he talks, but he doesn't say anything. Without a doubt, though, his little brother will be up his ass soon enough, especially when he coughs a bit after taking a sip of his coffee. The liquid singes his throat. It feels like hot lava is pouring down his esophagus and tearing open the lining along the way. Now, he winces every time he breathes.

He spends the rest of the morning in bed trying to stay awake while Sam does research. His head bobs up and down, and he can't do anything but think about the electrocution of his throat. He wants to rub his neck, but that'll just be another clue to the youngest Winchester that he isn't doing so hot right now. Instead, he yawns and ignores the persistent and annoying discomfort. He's half asleep when a hand grabs on to his shoulder and shakes him. Dean jumps, his heart racing.

"What'dya want, Florence?" Jesus, his voice sounds like shit.

"Gotta different case. Bobby called. Shifter in Missouri."

He groans and coughs lightly to clear his throat. That one action, though, is the thing that tips his brother off the most. Sam tries to plant his hand on Dean's forehead, but the shorter man bats it away. "Hands off, Samantha," he says, trying to act like normal Dean and tease his baby brother. That, however, becomes nearly impossible to do when another surge of pain rips through his insides. He moans and sits up, hating his life even more when a rush of dizziness threatens to make him collapse.

Choosing to ignore his brother's obvious agony, Sam puts a hand on his knee. "You comin' or not?" Dean will eventually give in to being sick. This is a tactic that Sam refers to as "tough love." When your stubborn, idiotic big brother refuses help or sympathy, sometimes the only thing left to do is for you to wait for him. It must be too early on in this sudden illness for Dean to realize how poorly he's going to feel in a few hours. He grabs his brother's elbow and helps him up, figuring that's the least he can do if Dean's going to be stupid for the rest of the day.

Dean tugs on a pair of jeans in replacement of his sweatpants and throws a flannel shirt over his thermal. He puts on his heaviest coat after he laces up his boots, and Sam forces a beanie over his destroyed hair. It's mid-January in Chicago, so he'll definitely need it, even though he started the Impala over a half hour ago. Dean gives out a non-commental grunt and forces himself to walk on achy limbs out to his baby, careful not to slip on any ice. He beats Sam to the passenger seat and climbs in.

Sam's jaw nearly drops to the ground below, but it doesn't necessarily surprise him. _He must be feeling pretty bad to give in this early. We're not going to make it far. _And that's okay, Sam decides. He watches his brother cringe as he swallows harshly again and again, and he can't stop the twinge in his heart when Dean cuddles his face on the window and crosses his arms in order to stop the vicious cycle of shivers. Dean's asleep before Sam puts the car in reverse.

It's going to be a long day.

* * *

"Dude, you gotta take something for that throat."

That's the first thing Dean hears when he stretches awake, huffing in discomfort and pain. His entire neck hurts, undoubtedly a bit from how he slept, and he wants to go back to sleep. It feels like someone is slicing his throat open with the sharpest knife in the world, and the stabbing sensation gets worse with every second that passes. He trembles as he forces himself upright to glare at his brother, who is clearly both pissed and worried out of his wits. Dean cranks the heat in his baby higher.

Sam just turns it back down again. "No more heat. Your fever's at least 103, and you need to sweat it out."

"B-But." He can barely get that one word out before he starts coughing, rubbing his swollen lymph nodes with one hand and his face with the other. His cheeks are burning against the cool flesh of his hand, and his neck can't handle any form of touching. Tears swell in the corners of his eyes, but he doesn't dare let them fall.

Sam grabs Dean's hand and slides the overly warm body next to him in the Impala. He, as gently as he can, fingers his older brother's clearly swollen neck and winces himself. "Dean, I think you've got strep." Sam knows from previous inventory that they have antibiotics for strep throat in their first aid kit, but this case seems a lot worse than when he himself had it last. Dean's nose is dripping slightly, and Sam figures that, perhaps, his brother's got a bit more than just strep floating through his system. Wordlessly, Dean lets his head dip on Sam's shoulder.

The taller man smiles a bit and nearly makes Dean cry when he forces him to sit up again. "Meds, then you can sleep." He gets his older brother to shove the antibiotics and some Nyquil down his aching throat before letting him settle down on to his shoulder again, his fever burning through Sam's coat. As he drives, he witnesses drool escaping from Dean's open mouth since he can't breathe properly out of his nose nor swallow. He chuckles and pulls into another hotel.

* * *

Two days later, and Dean hasn't been fever free once. Sam is exhausted and asleep with his big brother cuddled into his chest. Dean's awake, but doesn't dare to move. This is the first time he's been comfortable in days. Sam's been running himself ragged and sleeping with him every night because of the nightmares his risen temperature have caused. He watches Sam's Adam's apple bob up and down and watches sweat drip down the side of his face and pool on to the collar of his t-shirt and knows he's probably going to have a sick and cranky baby brother to deal with when he wakes up. Sam's never handled sore throats well.

Come to think of it, Dean guesses he doesn't either.

But, until Sam wakes up, Dean is going to enjoy being wrapped up in his Sasquatch of a baby brother's arms.

He'll work out the kinks later.

* * *

**Author's Note**: What did you guys think of this one? More fluff awaits, but Sam and Dean are actually going to fight in the next selection I'm working on. I hope you all enjoyed this one, and thank you so much for reading! Please remember reviews are always welcomed and appreciated!


	3. Big Brother Battles Heat Stroke

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Supernatural _or any of its characters.

Thank you so much for the continued reading, reviews, and alerts! It means the world to me!

This is set some time in season three, but contains no spoilers.

* * *

_Big Brother Battles Heat Stroke_

* * *

"Dean! I told a thousand times to buy more lighter fluid! How the hell are we supposed to burn the corpse now?" Sam nearly screams. He wipes the sweat dripping into his eyes and huffs. His cheeks heat up, but it's not from the mid July heat in Texas. Lately, he and Dean have been…well, kind of out of sync. Dean ignores him, doesn't clean up his messes, and never seems to remember that his brother is sleeping in the bed next to him when he's jerking off.

The older Winchester shrugs. "It's hot enough out here that I can start a fire with my piss." He's just about to reach the coffin, and Sam's throwing yet another pissy baby brother fit. His t-shirt is soaked through with the salty liquid that refuses to stop pouring out of his body. He pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose because they keep sliding everywhere, and the crazy trembles his being is overpowered by aren't making matters any better. What a frickin' fantastic day to lose your contacts, Dean. The humidity is enough to even fog up the lenses, making it nearly impossible to see. "Son of a bitch!"

Sam cringes internally when he witnesses Dean throw the shovel down angrily and tosses his glasses into the dirt. "Dean! What the hell?" This time, he does shout. His brother is such an idiot! He could throttle him! He picks up the spectacles, dusting them off with his shirt. Great. The plastic black frame is bent a little around the edges thanks to Dean's hissy fit. Just more money they'll have to spend that they don't have. Great job, big brother. He thrusts his hand out to give them back to Dean, but he just growls and continues to dig, grumbling terms of annoyance.

"You can't see without them, dude," he reminds him, in case he had forgotten. His brother is damn near blind without specialized, strong solution contacts or the thick corrective lenses. Sam did research about the astigmatisms and farsightedness when he was twelve and discovered Dean needed to see an eye doctor after misreading homework and driving in the wrong lane for an hour. So, Sam knows that Dean can't see anything up close, only kind of far away, and tries again to make his stubborn brother to listen to him. "Dean, seriously."

Another huff.

"You're acting like a four-year-old."

More digging.

"Fine. I'll be in the car with these when you want to quit being a child."

Dean stops digging briefly to watch his younger brother shuffle away and shakes his head in disgust. Why has Sam constantly been freaking out and nagging him? Hello, he's an entire four years older! Shouldn't he be giving the orders instead of taking them? Oh well. He guesses Sam will lighten up…eventually. Maybe.

When he finally reaches the coffin, he's out of breath and sweating like a pig. He feels like he's breathing through a clogged straw, and he can't stop shaking. It's so intense that he is shivering out in this one hundred and two degree heat, and he wants nothing more than to collapse in a bathtub of freezing water. He tries to fan himself, but nothing is working. Not being able to see doesn't help. Dean forgets about burning the corpse and climbs out of the hole, only to sink to his knees and fall on to his back. The ground burns, but it's better than standing.

Sweat keeps dripping into his mouth, but he doesn't have the strength to wipe it away. Even though he is lying down, he's dizzy, and there's a lump of vomit growing in his throat. His eyes tear up, and his head is pounding viciously in his skull, sending vibrations riveting throughout his exhausted body. He wants Sam to come help him up, but he doesn't want his brother to realize how sick he feels. So, he stands on overly quivering legs, his bronchi shaking like jelly. With each step comes more fatigue, and he's staggering to the car, completely deflated and breathless at the end. Before he can open the driver side door to meet his brother, he falls to his knees again, and a poof of orange dirt erupts around him like a fire.

"Dean! Holy shit!"

The younger Winchester hops out of the Impala immediately and starts to rattle Dean awake. His eyes are rolled in the back of his head, and he's sickeningly soaked with sweat. However, his cheeks are cool to the touch. Dammit. Heat stroke. Again. Nice. He quickly dumps all of their cold water on his brother and takes his own shirt off, wets it, and places it on his brother's forehead. He gathers up Dean in his arms, which isn't exactly easy because he isn't light, and bundles him the car, keeping his hand on his knee the entire ride back to the hotel. He chews his bottom lip until it's bleeding, and his heart clammers into his chest the whole time.

Finally, Sam is able to strip Dean down to just his boxers, produce the coldest shower possible, and shove his overheated, still unconscious body in there. The second the freezing water hits him, Dean's eyes open, but he doesn't look frantic, just relaxed as he leans on the wall to hold him up. Sam retrieves new boxers and force-feeds Dean saltines and Gatorade as he cools off on Sam's bed with two fans blowing on them. The two of them sit next to each other and relish in the fact that Dean is okay and that the only evidence of this event is his exhaustion, a little fever, and the deep sunburn to his cheeks.

Dean musters the strength to sit up, but his head falls on to Sam's shoulder as his elbows cave in from sleepiness. "Cold, Sammy," he says, barely able to keep his eyes open as Sam removes himself from the bed and grabs his big brother a pair of plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt. It's only four in the afternoon, but the slight temp is making him groggy and unwilling to stay awake. After having to practically dress Dean himself, Sam grabs his laptop and sits down next to his brother.

The sound of typing and the smell of his brother's cologne is what lulls Dean to sleep. But, of course, he can't manage to render himself to unconsciousness before clutching on to Sam's shirt and burying his face into his side. Sam's warm, and Dean's okay with knowing he's cuddling willingly this time. He smiles as he drifts off into a slumber where he dreams of his mother, father, and Sammy all being together.

Sometimes, it's okay for him to be the sap instead of Sam.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Well, it was kind of a fight… I'm such a sap. I love fluffiness between the two boys, but I want to try to write some more dramatic stuff. Maybe. What did you guys think of this selection? If you have any requests, feel free to PM me or drop a review? Anyway, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you are still enjoying this! Please remember that reviews are love!


	4. Big Brother Battles the Flu

**Author's Note: **I do not own the television show_ Supernatural _or any of its characters. Kripke owns it.

Thank you all very kindly for your continued support of this story!

This selection is set in season four, my personal favorite season of the show.

* * *

_Big Brother Battles the Flu_

* * *

Dean doesn't wake up in the middle of the night anymore.

Sam notices because he's the one who leaves between two and three in the morning when Dean is curled into bed, his face smushed against the too flat hotel pillow. He's continuing his training sessions with Ruby and making some quite impressive progress at the same time. He's now able to kill demons with only his mind, but he refuses to tell his big brother any of it. Dean will just pitch a fit and convince him that he's poison. Worse: a monster. He doesn't want to hear any of that.

What he's doing is right. It will kill Lilith and stop the apocalypse. Who the hell cares how he's doing it when at least it's something. And Dean hasn't exactly been strong enough to carry anything out. He, unlike his brother, has been a kick ass hunter since Dean returned from Hell, and he doesn't want to lose his mojo. Ruby giving him the demon blood is making him more powerful, more like his big brother. He doesn't feel bad about any of this anymore…Or does he?

No. He can't feel bad.

He most definitely doesn't feel bad.

On this frigid November night, Dean coughs and groans in his sleep as Sam zips up his coat. He's lying face down on the bed on top of the covers, snoring through what seems to be a bit of late night congestion to the youngest Winchester's ears. For the first night since he's been back from the pit, Dean actually bothers to change from a button up and jeans into sweat pants and a red long sleeved thermal. More unlike his brother is that he hasn't been to a bar after a hunt in a few days and has been sleeping a lot more often than Sam ever remembered. Maybe he just isn't having nightmares anymore. That's a good thing, right?

The worried part of Sam wants to stop mid-zip and place his hand on Dean's forehead to inspect for fever. But, the righteous part of Sam says that his brother's a big boy and will call him if he wakes up and needs anything. Sam quietly clicks the door closed and pulls on a beanie, walking to his destination this time instead of starting up the Impala, not knowing that he just left a sick Dean awake, staring off into the darkness with tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

* * *

Stupid Sam.

Dean lifts himself on to quivering legs and makes a beeline for the crappy motel toilet. He collapses on to his knees hard enough to leave bruises and vomits promptly, emptying his stomach contents and expelling the tiny bit of coffee he managed force down hours ago for dinner. His belly is in knots and clenching itself over and over again, and snot is streaming down his face. He wipes his face with cheap tissue paper, ridding himself of illness and trying to erase the panic.

Stupid freaking little brother.

Ruby.

Sam doesn't think Dean even knows what's going on. His little brother may be smarter than him, but that doesn't mean, by any means, that Dean is immune to seeing what's right in front of him. That demon bitch is poison, and, as soon as he's better, he's ending her. The knife she gave them is going straight through her heart for blinding his brother. He's supposed to keep Sam safe, but Sam will barely talk to him anymore and treats him like he's invalid.

What Sam doesn't know is that Dean's aware of everything that's going on. From the late night phone calls to the sneaking out to meeting Ruby in the middle of a damn hunt, he knows. He doesn't know what _exactly _he's doing there besides exorcising demons with his freaky mind thing, but he'll find out soon enough. But, that really isn't the current problem. No. It goes much deeper than that.

Dean knows with every fiber of his being that Sam isn't dumb enough to ignore the fact that his brother is coming down with something. He's sneezed eight (eight, dammit!) times right in front of his baby brother, and Sam hasn't even flinched. Normally, if he sneezes once, it's all over, and Sam has him cooped up in bed and pumped full of Vitamin C before the worst of his fever even hits. Now, when he needs his brother the most, he's not here and won't open his eyes to see he's sick.

His muscles creak in spasms every time he moves, his joints rubbing together like sandpaper as he leans against the headboard of his bed. He grabs his glasses on the nightstand and clicks on the television, trying to dull the roar in his aching head with the sounds of some stupid infomercial. His vision is still blurry, and he can barely swallow. His stomach is tender to the touch, and he coughs to mask the nausea building up again. He pulls the blankets up to his chest.

He can't get comfortable, no matter how hard he tries. Sam. That's the only thing on his mind, and he just wants his brother here. Now, preferably. Sam always takes care of him. Jesus H. Christ. He actually _wants,_ no _needs,_ his baby brother here to make him feel better! Not having Sam's undivided attention points the finger in all sorts of directions, and he needs that bitch gone. Using his power thing isn't going to help with the apocalypse. Why doesn't Sam realize she's evil?

_She's a frickin' demon, you stupid jackass! _

_Why doesn't he trust me? I'm his flesh and blood!_

God, he wishes Sam would just see it! See what he's doing to himself! Why is his brother so arrogant? He wouldn't say that to Sam unless he really needed to get through to him, but come on. Any dummy with half a brain could tell Sam is being brainwashed and coaxed into doing this. Dean's been sick for nearly three days, and Sam hasn't even so much as raised an eyebrow in his direction.

_I want my brother back_.

So, Dean just focuses harder on the TV, willing himself to turn his attention to that.

It's not like Sam even cares anymore in the first place.

* * *

Sam returns to the hotel around six to find Dean asleep against the headboard with his glasses on and his head bobbed toward his chest. The stench of vomit hangs loosely in the air, and he can tell Dean has had a less than pleasant past few hours. He removes his coat and shoes before turning off the tube and flipping on the bedside lamp. He carefully places his hand on Dean's forehead, which sends his brother flailing awake, knocking his specs off, and making him curse.

"Don't touch me," Dean croaks.

"Relax, sicky. Just trying to gage how bad off you are this time."

"I mean it, Sam. Don't touch me."

One look at Dean's bloodshot eyes is all it takes.

"What's wrong?"

Dean huffs. "Besides you flirting with a demon whore, nothin' much, Sammy. Everything's peachy."

He half expects Sam to correct his "Sammy" to "it's Sam" or his brother to walk away and slam the door shut, but he doesn't. Instead the taller Winchester takes a seat on the bed across from Dean. "I'm not doing anything wrong, Dean," he says, trying to convince both himself and his ever skeptical big brother.

"The hell you're not," he mumbles.

"Dean, what do you want me to say?"

"That you're being an idiot, for starters. Dude, I've been sick for three days, and you haven't done a thing about it. What the hell happened to my kid brother who holes me up in an overly sterile hotel room when I _sneeze?_ A fricking _sneeze_, goddammit." He keeps going when he sees Sam's jaw drop and his eyes widen. "I don't know what you're up to, Sammy. I don't. I don't know why you think lying to me is going to help. This is _our _fight, not yours. I know you think I'm useless and weak, but that's not true. I wish you weren't so damned blind."

"I never said you were-"

Dean cuts him off. "Whatever, Sam."

"What do you want from me?" He's exasperated and exhausted. Sam scrubs his hands down the side of his face and goes to lean against his own headboard. He kind of figured Dean's been awake for some of the times he's snuck out, so this isn't a surprise to him. If Dean thinks he's getting an apology for being lied to, he's got a different thing coming. Why is it okay for him to lie constantly about how he's feeling, but nothing like that is remotely okay for Sam?

The older Winchester just shakes his head and rolls over. He sniffles back the tears.

Stupid Sam.

* * *

Sam awakens from his own sleep some time in the evening to find Dean shivering to death beneath a mound of blankets. His face is flushed, his breathing is deep, and he's snoring wickedly. When did he get this bad? This strain of flu has been in his brother for days, and he thinks Dean is the stupid one if he truly believes he never noticed. Through his own anger at his dumb big brother, Sam heads to the sink in the bathroom anyway. It's what Dean would do for him.

He wets a washcloth and places it on his Dean's overly hot forehead, sighing when he flinches away.

Maybe some things do have to change.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I have always thought that the dynamics between Sam and Dean during season four are the most interesting throughout the whole show. I think we, as the audience, got a lot of the anger the boys were expressing, but they are still brothers. I get that neither of them are fluffy and welcoming here, but Sam still cares for Dean in a deep, brotherly way, and no act of stupidity can take that away. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this selection, and, as always, thank you very much for reading! Please remember that reviews are appreciated!


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